A lionfish is like a peacock kinda
by Rodlox
Summary: For the 20067 rareficathon. Elizabeth considers and talks with Ronon. Mild RononWeir ship.


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Title:A Lionfish is like a Peacock, kinda.

Author:Keenir.

Beta:Lirenel.

Summary:Three looks at the relationship of Ronon and Elizabeth.

Written for BeatriceOtter's request in the Stargate Rare Pairings 2007 ficathon. She'd asked for Ronon/Elizabeth, with insights and his past.

Pairing:Weir/Dex.

Author's Note:Yes, the contemplation platform is where she sat outside in _Sunday_.

Second Note:In my view of the Pegasus Galaxy, the Ancients never introduced birds to **any** of their worlds.

Third Note:Yes, shameless paraphrasing of the **_Ancient Mariner_**.

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**POST-RUNNER:**

Elizabeth Weir sat on the platform, her feet dangling over the edge. Where she sat was presently wrapped in light shade: there was a shadow over her, but it was far from dark at the moment.

Lt. Col. Sheppard had brought back a new friend from one of his missions, and, so help her, she had tried to talk to this newcomer, to see if he could be befriended. 'Prickly' and 'defensive' were two words that came to mind; she was skilled enough at diplomacy to recognize and distinguish whether someone was giving short answers because they wanted to get back to work, and when someone gives short answers because they don't trust anybody. Ronon Dex was the latter.

From what she'd seen of him, when he chose to do something, anything, he never hesitated, never held back, and gave no quarter; the same with a conversation you tried to hold with him. And he never acted, never said something that wasn't really on his mind.

Blunt, aggressive, and not one to sneak around. Where Ronon Dex walked, nobody failed to see him, and that wasn't solely on account of his physical size. He immediately radiated a sense of **_danger, I am here_** and supreme self-confidence. Most anyone else would call him a bull in a china shop, and leave it at that. Elizabeth knew that a few of the Earthborn women on Atlantis had remarked that Ronon drew the eye like a peacock -- a singularly lethal peacock, to be sure, but still full of that same vitality.

Elizabeth shook her head. _No._ To her, Ronon was not a peacock. One hand went down to her calf, fingertips running over the point of contact. No, he was a lionfish. You couldn't help but notice them, couldn't help but be drawn towards them, couldn't keep from reaching out…

She jerked her hand back to her side. The scar was silent, just like it had been the last ten years. It did not interfere with her walking, nor did it go away. It was always there. Omnipresent.

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**POST-SATEDA:**

They didn't tell her much. They had to say _something, _so they told as little as they thought they could get away with. And they thought they were pulling the wool over her eyes. But John Sheppard's little plan was not working. Elizabeth typed, one-handed, a notice ordering a freeze on all 'gate activity for Sheppard, Rodney, and Teyla. Ronon was being silent, not saying anything. And Carson…she had a thought about how to handle Carson.

From what they _did_ mention, she built up a picture of the Wraith abducting Ronon, sending him back to Sateda, and hunting him there. _But then, if the goal was just to hunt, why take him all the way back to his home-world? _ Yes, clearly there were pieces missing in the story.

When it was obvious she was not going to get any more from them in this meeting, she dismissed them. At the same time, she emailed the notice to all command staff and gate room technicians. And she noticed that there was still one other person in the room. "Yes, Ronon?"

"It was me," he said.

"What was?"

"We were captured by the people of that planet, because of me, because of what had happened the last time I was with them. They handed me over to the Wraith…and I didn't fight it. I fought a little, on Sateda, because…it's what I do, it's what they'd expect of me." Even cornered, even dying, a lionfish never lowers its defenses around a predator. "But, overall, I didn't fight them."

Elizabeth blinked. Ronon had stated on many occasions that his reason for being, both during his seven years as a Runner and here in Atlantis, was to fight and kill Wraith.

"I owed them," he told her. "They said they had a covenant…a promise from the Wraith: hand me over, and their people would never be culled."

Anyone else would've whistled in appreciation -- that was an offer that would have sorely tempted anybody, no matter who it was. Elizabeth sat in silent rapture, watching him sit and talk. He looked like he was still, yet perceptive eyes caught the little motions, the subtle twitches.

"But the Wraith commander - the one who hunted me - broke the covenant."

"I thought the Wraith were united. One purpose."

Ronon smiled. "If that were true, they'd never get anything done. I'm part of Sheppard's team, but I'm here - without them - telling you what happened."

Elizabeth nodded. "I see," and she got the analogy.

"Sheppard and the others, when they came to Sateda, they told me what'd happened." With a shoulder-rolling shrug, he added (that), "After that, I didn't have any reason to bat aside the Wraith while I waited for the allowable"

"I would've let the Wraith win over me…if they'd kept their covenant," Ronon said, the whole thing quiet, suggesting he would rather that news not spread widely.

Just when you thought you had Ronon figured out, he did something else. _Is describing Ronon like talking about the Tao? If you can describe the Tao, then it's not the Tao. _She could tell that there was more to this man than just defensive posture.

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**POST-SUNDAY:**

_Paper, paper, everywhere; and all the desks did shrink; paper, paper, everywhere; nor any rest to take. _Elizabeth cradled her temples in her hands, massaging her thumbs against the sides of her head. It helped a little, but the paperwork was still there. Several stacks of inches-high papers rested on her desk, waiting their turn for her attention.

There were death certificates to sign before they were sent, onsite reports to fill out, and there were demands from both the SGC and Homeworld Security for proof that it was**_ Ancient _**technology to blame -- not a Goa'uld, a Wraith, or an Ori plot -- that had killed so many here in Atlantis. The IOA was supporting her, though. It was nice to know there was _somebody_ on her side. _We've had our disputes and disagreements before, but they're there for me when push comes to shove_

She wasn't sure what it was that made her look up just then - a hunch perhaps, or her neck seizing control long enough to straighten itself, and maybe an unconscious feeling - but when she did, she saw Ronon standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry," Elizabeth said, hands still in position, but no longer touching her skull. "Were you there long?" _Do Satedans knock? Do Runners forget how to knock?_

"Not long," Ronon answered, which wasn't really an answer…after all, he might have been accustomed to far longer bouts of standing still.

_Not that Sheppard would believe it. _"Come in, please. I'm afraid I can't offer more than a seat at the moment," waving one hand over the neat stacks of paperwork.

"It's all right." He strode in and took the one chair. It didn't escape Elizabeth's notice how first he looked at it from the corner of his eye:_ checking it; still wary, ever-cautious_. "I came about you."

_Not blunt, but direct. _"What can I do for you?"

"Not me."

In reply, she raised one eyebrow. Not a lot, but a just perceptible distance.

"When I got here, you offered to teach me chess."

"Yes," Elizabeth said, not sure where this was going. "Are you still interested?"

"I am." Ronon was silent for a minute, and she wasn't about to push him. "I just need to," and fished about for a word, the right word, "not to go fast. And you," he looked at her desk, then back at her face, "need a break."

Putting one hand on the nearest stack of papers, she reluctantly agreed. "Okay. We'll have a match when I finish this stack."

He nodded, and she smiled. You can handle lionfish. You just need care.

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_The End._


End file.
